Journals

Do you keep a journal?

At one time I kept a journal that I wrote all my feelings in, dreams, strange ideas, thoughts, opened myself up and let it all flow…

…then someone I trusted read it…and got very angry with me because of the words I had written. So I deleted everything from my computer, I burned the notebook, and I made a resolution:  NEVER KEEP A JOURNAL AGAIN!

But,

over the years, the need to get some fuzzy stuff down, to jot story ideas, excerpts of fiction or poetry that feed my soul, notes on what I saw that day, or people I witnessed being people, human’s who carried a story around with them, one I could imagine if I took the time and let my mind run, run, run….so journaling has become part of my life again for the past few years. I do not use it to express inner feelings, disenchantments with every-day life or any of the like, except if it has to do with writing my novel or my short stories.

The journal has become more of an expression that keeps the momentum of writing going, no matter what my frame of mind might be. I hate my story, I love my story, it doesn’t matter, this will help me get by. For a few weeks I’ve let it slip by, not adding to the blank pages anything but my hollow stares. And my novel writing had slowed down to a decrepit pace, of like zero to none words a day with only one or two passing thoughts added. But I picked it up this weekend with new resolve. It feels heavy and real, the journal itself, which makes me feel like the words I’ve hand-written within have some weight that will make a difference somewhere…or maybe none at all. And it doesn’t matter.

Sometimes I let some personal stuff slip in, the stuff I know no one will hate me for after I’ve gone and they take this black book out and decide to look into me. Like this morning’s entry which went something like this:

July 18.2012

Could not sleep during the night, partly because of the heat (even though the air was on) and partly because I just wasn’t tired. My mind wasn’t racing, my legs felt fine (sometimes they itch or twitch) so I’m not sure what it was, but I got up around 1 am or so and came downstairs and read and wrote into my novel manuscript. I feel I may have focus now. My daughter, words of wisdom from a 16-year-old, said to me last night, “Why don’t you finish that story? Don’t give up on it, it’s really good.” (She’d read my first draft in progress a few months ago). “Even if you get another job, you could do both.”

And so I can.

Feel a bit more inspired to dig into blogs again too, especially Disenchanted Twilight, which I sometimes feel I should rename, though disenchantment is part of me, so perhaps it is fine.

~End of entry

If you keep a journal, what do you put into it? Feel free to share.

image: Disenchanted Twilight

We fret about words…

An enchanted writing quote from Susan Sontag:

We fret about words, we writers. Words mean.  Words point.  They are arrows. Arrows stuck in the rough hide of reality. And the more portentous, more general the word, the more they also resemble rooms or tunnels.  They can expand, or cave in.  They can com to be filled with a bad smell.  They will often remind us of other rooms, where we’d rather dwell or where we think we are already living.  They can be spaces we lose the art or the wisdom of inhabiting.  And eventually those volumes of mental intention we no longer know how to inhabit, will be abandoned, boarded up, closed down.

Haiku

I’ve always found the Japanese for of poetry, called Haiku, fascinating and enchanting.

Haiku, as defined in the shaded literary dictionary, consists of seventeen syllables formed in three lines of poetry: line one has five syllables, line two has seven, and line three has five syllables again.

Haiku poems are meant to express a single idea, an inspiring image or feeling, “it is a kind of miniature “snap” of words!”  This form of poetry was first established in the 16th century and was originally called hokku.

Two of the most well-known Japanese haiku poets are Basho and Kobayashi Issa.  Other poets who may have used haiku principles in their works or were influenced by this delicate form of poetry are Ezra Pound, Amy Lowell, Robert Frost, Conrad Aiken and W. B. Yeats.

Here is a sample by Western poet James Kirkup from the poem titled Evening

In the amber dusk
Each island dreams its own night
The sea swarms with gold.

image: asian princess iPhone wallpaper

Top Twenty Most Common Dreams of Teens

This list was not compiled by me, but from some of the teens, high school age and college age included, this list pretty much tops it out…almost all interviewed checked off at least half of these…so I found the list quite interesting. For myself when I was a teenager, swimming was repetitive dream and flying, which I’m surprised is not on the list. Being on a roller-coaster was another one, and mentioned by others as well.  What other dreams are missing on this list? Tell me yours.

  1. Falling
  2. Being attacked or pursued
  3. Trying repeatedly to do something
  4. School, teachers, and studying
  5. Sexual experience
  6. Arriving too late
  7. Eating
  8. Being frozen with fright
  9. A loved person is dead
  10. Being locked up
  11. Finding money
  12. Swimming
  13. Snakes
  14. Being inappropriately dressed
  15. Being smothered
  16. Being nude in public
  17. Fire
  18. Failing an examination
  19. Seeing one’s self as dead
  20. Killing someone (for the record, no one I interviewed has ever had this dream.)